


That Cashier

by iamavacado



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Annoyance, Craft Store, Gen, Logince - Freeform, M/M, its real gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-04 12:18:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17304488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamavacado/pseuds/iamavacado
Summary: Logan loves his little bookstore. At least, until his regulars are scared away by droves of girls gossiping about some new cashier across the mall. What was his name? Roman?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this was prompted by the lovely @introverted-happiness on tumblr. follow them!!!!!!

Logan was proud of his little bookstore. Of course, it wasn’t much-- just a small store tucked into the corner of the mall, nearly obstructed by a jewelry kiosk. But it was his corner. He had cultivated a comfortable, safe, quiet environment for people to find and enjoy some literature at any time of the day, and he was proud of it. On the front counter, there was a cup of pens, and inside that cup was a small rainbow flag so people knew what was up. He had also added some tables and chairs near the front door, so people could buy their books and read them in a proper environment, because after all, wasn’t the greatest joy in the world reading books while surrounded by other books?

He even dared to set up a small rack of pastries, free for people to take at any point in the day. While he did it to maybe entice some more customers to come into the store (it worked), he also wanted to make people feel as comfortable as possible. There was nothing more comfortable than books and pastries. 

It was nice. It was quiet. It was great.

Until _he_ came. 

In truth, Logan didn’t really know who _he_ was. He had never seen the boy before. But he had heard about him. Recently, patrons would come in Logan’s little bookstore, but they wouldn’t buy books. They wouldn’t even peruse. Imagine coming into a bookstore and not even perusing! Instead, they took up his tables and chairs, grabbed some pastries, and rattled on and on about some new cashier. How charming he was. How adorable he was. How good of a singer he was. 

He knew that the cashier’s name was Roman, and he knew that he worked at the crafts store on the other side of the mall. And he also knew--

The bell at the front of the bookstore chimed, and Logan emerged from the back and went to the checkout counter to greet whoever had entered. Two people had come in, and had all but bothered to say hello before plopping down in two empty chairs and talking. They were obviously young.

“He’s perfect, right?” said one of them; she had bright red hair.

“Oh, yeah. I’d jump on that in a second.”

“Carrie!” The red haired person slapped her friend on the arm, and the two burst into a fit of giggles.

And he also knew that, _apparently,_ Roman was drop dead gorgeous. 

Logan of course knew that looks weren’t everything, but he had to admit: he wanted to see what good old Roman the cashier looked like. The way everyone seemed to talk about him, he must have been the single most attractive boy in the world. One look at Roman, Logan assumed, and you just might explode due to awe. At least, based on the wild descriptions every girl who came inside seemed to give. 

Logan saw that the people sitting at his table were obviously not here for books, and call him stingy, but he really only wanted those tables and chairs reserved for paying customers. Paying customers who had an innocent love for books and wanted to read their purchases at the table. Or perhaps sit at his table and write there. He had set up a wifi hotspot just for that purpose. Or even for people to bring their own books and read quietly. This was a space to appreciate literature and knowledge, not some cashier on the other side of the mall.

He stepped out from behind the front counter and walked up to the two girls sitting at the table. “Excuse me,” he said in his most polite voice, “are you two looking for some books?”

The girls looked up at him, and almost seemed offended that Logan dared to interrupt them. “No, we're here to talk. Is it okay if we just sit here? We aren't bothering anyone,” said the red haired girl.

“Yeah,” piped up the other girl, “all the lounges in the mall are so crowded and noisy.”

Logan looked out past the girls through his glass door, and saw one of the many lounges that were scattered throughout the mall. All it took was one glance to see that the girls were lying, because there was only one person sitting in that particular lounge. They had their headphones in, head bent forward, and they seemed to be absorbed in a book. He wistfully thought of how blissful it would be if they and the girls switched places.

When Logan looked back down, one of the girls glanced over her shoulder. Despite all three of them knowing what the truth was, Logan cleared his throat and plastered on a friendly smile. “Well, once you get a free second--don’t feel obligated--but maybe you could peruse my selection of books at your leisure. We offer a multitude of subjects, and maybe something would strike your fancy.”

They nodded half heartedly and resumed their conversation. It was clear that they weren't going to peruse. Logan clasped his hands behind his back and walked behind the front counter again. He grabbed a book from the back he had been reading and tried to finish it in his chair near the register, just in case any _actual_ paying customers came in.

***

From what Logan had been experiencing, Roman the cashier had been working at the mall for all of three weeks. Maybe a month. Because a month ago, it was all quiet. It was peaceful. He even had a regular--Virgil--who would come in nearly every day to read and write and buy books. But now, even he had to relocate due to the abundance of girls gathering in his store and gossiping about this one boy. On one hand, he was honored that they chose his corner out of all the other corners. But on the other, he wanted to make a sign that said 'no Roman talk allowed’. 

He tried to hide his frustration, because the ones who talked about this cashier were mostly just young girls who seemed to still be in high school, or even middle school. Logan remembered having useless crushes in high school as well, so he wanted the girls to have their fun. But it still irked him, because he was out of high school. Had been for a while now. And the last time he had gossiped about someone he had a crush on had been, hmm...let him count...never! Because he learned how to keep it to himself. Couldn't these girls do the same? Or at least keep it out of his bookstore?!

So Logan passed the time reading. And serving those who actually came in to buy books.  
And he tried to ignore the comments and conversations. But by the end of the sixth week, he was quite sick of hearing Roman’s name. For one, it was starting to hurt sales. His regulars would see the place crowded with high schoolers and go somewhere else more quiet, which made it harder to meet his quota.

And for two, anytime someone said it, his shoulders would tense. It was almost an instinctual reaction at this point. He knew that it was ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it. His annoyance was easily provoked, and everyone who knew him in any form knew that he wasn’t very good at hiding it, even in the customer service business. 

Had he not been surrounded by books all the time, he would have snapped much earlier than he did.

***

It was a Friday, and Logan was tired. 

All week, once again, he had been hearing about Roman. His regular book readers had long since been replaced by regular gossipers. The two girls who came in the one day were there every day now, or at least that was what it seemed like to Logan. They talked of their classes, high school drama, enemies, friends, parents, and, of course, _Roman._

“What would you do if you actually had a chance to talk to him?” asked the red haired girl. She was munching on a doughnut from Logan’s pastry rack.

“Oh, god,” said Carrie, “I don’t think I’d be able to get two words out to him.”

Logan rolled his eyes as discreetly as possible and went in the back of the store, since there obviously weren’t going to be any paying customers coming in today. He grabbed a novel from one of the shelves as he went and read a few chapters.

About halfway through the day, and Logan stopped reading. Slowly, he put in a bookmark and set the book down, listening. He heard something peculiar. No, actually, he didn’t hear anything at all. But that was what was peculiar. Even in the back of the store, Logan would be able to hear their useless chatter through the walls. But when he set his book down, and listened intently, he couldn’t hear anyone talking. Instead, there was just a soft humming. Logan’s eyebrows shot up, and he rushed to the front. Did Virgil come back? He always hummed along to the music playing in those big headphones of his.

When he got to the front, however, it wasn’t Virgil. It was some boy he had never seen before. For a moment, Logan thought that it was just another gossiper, but there was something different about him. It clicked: he was perusing! The boy was actually perusing the books, walking in between aisles, picking up books that he deemed interesting. 

Logan quietly pumped his fist and walked up to him. As he passed the glass door, he saw that the crowd that _had_ been inside his store was now at the lounge. They were all huddled together in a circle, stealing glances toward his store. He elected to ignore them, glad that they had finally gone. 

“Excuse me,” Logan said, “Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?”

The boy turned around and faced him. He had green eyes, and light brown hair that fell in waves. He also had a smattering of freckles that were spread across his cheeks A few stray strands fell down in front of his eyes. Four or five books were clutched to his chest. He was probably the prettiest boy Logan had ever seen.

“No, not really,” the boy replied with a wide toothed smile. “Just picking up whatever strikes my fancy.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, and tried to hide his excitement. The boy even used one of Logan’s top ten phrases. “Fantastic. I’ll be at the front to check you out whenever you’re ready.” The boy nodded, and Logan went back to the front counter, eagerly waiting for the boy to come and purchase something. Finally someone was getting use out of this little corner store. 

After about ten minutes, the boy came to the counter with a stack of books balanced in his arms. He put them all on the counter, looking quite satisfied with himself. Logan was impressed.

“You like to read, I assume?” he asked of the boy as he started to check the books out and put them in paper bags. 

“Absolutely,” replied the boy. “I mean, I’m definitely more of a creator of art than a consumer of art, but I made a bet with one of my friends that I could read more books in a month than he could, so now I have to hold up my end of the bargain.”

“I’m glad you called them art.” Logan filled on bag, and started on another. “Not many people would agree with you. They’re quite close minded when it comes to what is and isn’t art.”

The boy nodded. “Oh yeah, unfortunately. Down at the craft store where I work, I’ve had to explain it to many a people.”

Logan paused in his scanning. “You work at the craft store?”

“Yeah, I’m a cashier there.”

In this exact moment, Logan wasn’t quite sure what came over him. He didn't have an outburst, per say. An outburst would include something along the lines of a hard slamming of books, and maybe a sharp yell to go with it. Logan didn't do this. Instead, he did something that, in his mind, was much worse. Because an outburst could be excused away. He could plead insanity and claim that he was tired and it had been a long day. No, he couldn't do either of those now.

Because Logan had let his shoulders fall with defeat, hand still holding the book. He closed his eyes and sighed. A deep, heavy, extended sigh that couldn't be passed off as a sudden intake of breath. And then, he said, out loud, “I am so sick of hearing about that cashier.” He said it quietly, but he knew they both heard it.

Logan opened his eyes, and saw that the boy was giving him a strange look. Ashamed, Logan tried to fix his mistake. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, resuming bagging the books, “it’s just that my sales have been a little impacted lately. People keep crowding in here talking about some cashier who apparently is the most attractive man in all the land. I wouldn’t mind, normally, but they’ve started to scare my regulars away. I’m very sorry, I shouldn’t have said it. I didn’t mean to talk bad of your coworkers.”

The boy nodded. “Ah.” He picked his bags up off the counter and held them at his sides. “Roman?”

Logan looked up at him, wondering how he could have known his name. But that was when he noticed the name tag the boy was wearing, previously obstructed by all the books. In a twist straight from his nightmares, the name tag did indeed say, in red handwriting: _Hello, I’m Roman!_

Logan snapped his head up, and he was sure his face was one of shock. He immediately began trying to recover. “Oh, my goodness, I...I am so sorry, I had no idea it was you they were all...talking about. I didn’t mean to, uh, be rude to you I...I um…”

The boy--Roman--flashed a coy smirk. “Did I not live up to the hype?”

“No! I mean, no, that’s not what I’m saying. I mean, you look fine-- well not FINE, I just meant, you know, fine, as in you look fine, you’re not ugly. Not that I would imagine you were ugly, I-- I mean I have nothing against _you,_ just how often people _talk_ about, you, I-- I--” He paused, and looked down at the counter. “This is all coming out very wrong.”

When he looked back up, he saw that Roman was smiling, trying to hold back laughter. “You’re doing great,” he said. “But, if I’m being honest, it’s kind of annoying me too. How much they talk about me.”

“Really?” asked Logan, voice small.

Roman glanced down at the counter, and he seemed to spot Logan’s rainbow flag sitting in his pen cup. He looked back up. “Yeah. For one, it kind of makes me feel like I’m just an object to those girls. I mean, come on! There’s more to me than my rugged good looks!”

Logan looked at him, eyeing him up and down as discreetly as possible. “Huh.”

“And,” Roman continued, “if I’m being completely honest, uh…” he leaned forward like he was about to reveal some grand secret. “I don’t exactly swing that way.”

“Oh!” Of all the things Logan expected to hear, it definitely wasn’t that. It caught him so off guard that, handing Roman his receipt, he let it fly that, “I don’t either.”

In truth, he hadn’t exactly caught what he had said until he looked back up from putting the money in the register and saw that Roman was still standing there. He was smiling. That was when it clicked. But he tried to keep it cool. It wasn’t like it was some sort of secret. 

“Interesting,” Roman said. He walked over to the tables, deposited his books there, and took out a pen. Logan watched him curiously as he scribbled something on the back of his receipt. Then, Roman turned around, walked up to the counter, and slid it face up across the surface. Then, he flashed a perfect smile, and walked out with his books.

Logan looked after him, and watched the crowd of girls nearly faint when he came near. Roman said something to them, and pointed at the bookstore. The girls nodded. Roman left. Logan was still standing at the counter, staring ahead, more confused than anything. He looked down at the receipt and flipped it over. On the back, there was something written down in Roman’s careful script.

_I’ve heard people talking about you too. Call me?_

His number was written under it.


	2. Chapter 2

_I've heard people talk about you too. Call me?_

Logan took the note back from him and slid it into his pocket. “Well?” he asked. “What do you think I should do?”

Virgil blinked at him. His headphones hung around his neck, and a song could be heard playing faintly through the muffs. “I uh…” he looked down at his phone and paused his music. “I think you should call him.”

“You think I sh-- I can’t just call him!” Logan leaned back in the chair and ran a hand through his hair. A sigh escaped him. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t even be asking you. We-- I barely know you, I shouldn’t be bothering you.”

“I mean.” Virgil took his headphones off his neck and set them on the table, leading forward with his elbows folded on the table. He shrugged. “It’s fine, I guess. But I think you should call him if you like him.”

“I don’t _want_ to call him!”

“Then don’t call him.”

“I mean, of course I want to call him, but I can’t just _call_ him.”

“Why not? Is that not his number?” Virgil gestured to the paper in Logan’s pocket.

“Yes, it’s his number.”

“Then you _can_ just call him if he gave it to you for the specific purpose of you calling him.”

Logan opened his mouth for a rebuttal, but found none. He sighed, annoyed at how right Virgil was. “It makes sense.”

“Makes sense.”

A few moments passed in silence between them. Logan had leaned forward in his chair once more, arms crossed tight over his chest. He was peeking out the glass, halfway hoping that Roman would pop up out of nowhere and make the first move himself. But, of course, he didn’t. He was at work. So was Logan.

A customer walked in. Logan greeted them and told them to take their time, he wasn’t busy. 

“Okay,” he said to Virgil in a hushed tone now that someone else could listen to them. “What if I just waited for him to call me instead?”

“Did you give him your number?”

Logan thought for a second. “Shoot.”

“He can't call you first if he doesn't have your number.”

“Yes, I got that.”

Logan looked behind him to see if the customer who came in could hear them talking. No, they were just perusing. He turned back around. “Okay,” he started, “what if--”

“I'm gonna level with you Logan,” interrupted Virgil. He put both hands on the table palms down as he began. “Do you know why I'm in your store all the time? Like, almost every day?”

Logan wasn’t quite sure what to say for a moment. He stammered, then said, “Because...you like books?”

“No.” Virgil must have seen the look on Logan’s face, so he recovered quickly. “Well, yes, but no. I come here, because I have this thing, it’s a condition, and it’s called ‘I don’t like being around people’.”

Logan tilted his head at Virgil.

“Anxiety,” Virgil said.

“Ah.”

Virgil glanced out of the glass as he continued. “So, I come here where it’s quiet and relatively undisturbed. Because I’m worried all the time about being around a lot of people. And if I’m being perfectly honest with you? It. _Sucks._ Can I tell you how many times I’ve wanted to go inside and buy some stuff at Hot Topic because they have sales that aren’t available online? It’s just like, my body will not let me go into the store.”

“I’m--” Logan adjusted his glasses. “I’m not sure why you’re telling me this.”

“Me, I have a condition where I literally cannot help worrying. You don’t. So you know what you can do?”

“What can I do?”

Virgil gestured to Logan’s pocket once more. “You can just pick up your phone and call him. Eyes closed, head first, can't lose.”

Logan stood up suddenly and started pacing back and forth, still trying to keep his voice down just a little bit as the customer looked up and down the aisles. “Okay,” he said. “First of all, that is a terrible philosophy. What if you landed on your head? You'd get hurt. Secondly--” he put two fingers up, then gestured to him and Virgil, going back and forth-- “these are two different situations. They cannot be considered to be the same thing because they definitely are not. This is a psychological condition that you are being affected with, which hinders your efforts to accomplish things that unaffected society would deem ‘regular’. I, on the other hand, am a quote unquote ‘functioning’ adult who is not encumbered by any such condition, in which case, it should be _much_ easier...to…”

Logan looked at Virgil, who was now smirking. He sank down into his chair. “I just refuted my own point.”

“Yeah.” Virgil picked up his headphones and stood from his chair. “Yeah, you did.” He patted Logan’s shoulder. “You’re a good guy Logan. I believe in you.”

He then threw his satchel over his shoulder and walked out, leaving Logan to sit there in a stunned silence. Once out of the store, he muttered, “Can’t wait to see how _this’ll_ play out.”

***

It was the next day. Logan stared down at his phone as it sat mockingly on his coffee table. Roman's name and number was staring back at him. The green button near the bottom of the screen was all he had to press to call. That was it. And he could put the phone to his ear, and ask Roman on a date. It would be so simple. It wasn't like he had anything to lose. He wouldn't be seeing much of Roman anyway if he never called, since he was on the other side of the mall. 

But then again, he could just waltz in at any time. Like he did when they met. But this time, he might catch Logan complimenting him instead of insulting him, which would be the social equivalent of Logan hurling himself into a sewer for some street rat’s enjoyment.

Logan crossed his arms down at his phone. Roman's name was still on the screen. The green button was still sitting there, waiting oh so patiently. Logan reached down for his phone, then yanked his arm back up. He reached down again, and yanked it back up. He bit his fist, pacing back and forth, eyes never leaving his phone. Virgil's words came back to him. He had a condition where he couldn't do certain things with people. Logan did not. Therefore, why should it be hard to just, pick up the phone…

Logan reached down again, and had his fingers almost wrapped around it. Pick up...the phone...and…

Breathe in. Breathe out. Eyes closed, head first, can't lose. Logan snatched the phone off the table, and pressed wildly on his phone with his eyes still closed, hoping he'd hit the green button before he could change his mind and throw the phone across the room. After he felt he had clicked the button, he held the phone to his ear. It started to ring. Logan waited, frozen, in the middle of the room. One ring. Two rings. Three.

“Hello?”

Logan opened his eyes.

It was the same voice. It was Roman's voice. It had to be. Who else could it have been? But for some reason Logan didn't recognize it, or, maybe he didn't want to recognize it. He wanted to say something, anything, but at this point it was clearly revealed that he had no plan. So what could he do? Pass it off as a wrong number and move on? But no, Roman knew Logan's voice now. They'd had a full conversation. He could disguise his voice, but to what? He was nearly thirty; it wasn't like he could do a little girl impression, as if he would want to anyway. 

By this point, too much time had passed before Logan could figure anything out, and Roman had started to say that they must have had a wrong number, and moved to hang up. It was a sweet release. A way out. But no. Logan had to open his mouth.

“Roman!” he exclaimed, too loud. “Hi, I'm sorry. It's me, Logan. From- from the mall. The, um, the bookstore?” All poise had left him, and he tried to hold in an ashamed sigh. 

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line, in which Logan was sure Roman was regretting giving his number out to this sputtering buffoon. Regardless, he answered in a friendly voice. “Oh! Logan, hey! How are you?”

In shambles. Embarrassed. Quite ready to crawl into a hole and never come back out unless it's to salvage whatever food he could find from a nearby dumpster, because that was what he deserved. “Doing fine. What about you?”

“Doing great. About to head into work.” A pause. Perhaps he was checking the time. “Aren't you as well?”

Logan held the phone away from his ear long enough to look at the time. When he saw that he had to open his store in the next thirty minutes, he cursed under his breath and started frantically running over to his foyer to get his shoes on. “That's absolutely right,” said Logan, trying and failing to keep his cool. He started to shove his feet into his loafers. “What I wanted to call you about, was, um--”

“If I may,” Roman interrupted him. Maybe he'd caught how inept Logan was at this whole romance thing. “I’m actually kind of glad you called me. I wanted to asked you if you perhaps wanted to grab some lunch with me.”

Logan stopped. He blinked rapidly in half confusion. “I- I don't know if our...breaks would--”

Roman chuckled. “Not during our lunch break. This weekend. Would you like to?”

On one hand, Logan was miffed that he wasn't the one to ask the question. On the other, he was quite relieved since, if Logan tried to do it, he'd fumble over his words until he threw his phone into a river out of embarrassment. “I would...I'd love to.”

“Great!” Roman said. “Saturday, three o clock? We can meet at the mall.”

Logan leaned his weight against his front door, one shoe on and one shoe off. “Sounds good.”

“Awesome. See you then.” Roman hung up.

It was a few seconds before Logan lowered the phone from his ear. Though, he didn't get enough time to savor the moment because he had to get to his store, so he rushed out the door without so much as a coat in the chill wind. All he could think as he drove down the road was, _I got a date!_

 _Through no skill of your own,_ Logan reminded himself. He shrugged.

_Still got one!_

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment!


End file.
